The dogs slept well last night, and as is usually
the case, when they sleep well, so does everyone else.
I woke feeling amazingly chipper bearing in mind
that yesterday I shifted a gallon of ale and made a serious dent in a bottle of
port. When I’m at home, half a bottle of wine leaves me feeling like death
warmed up but when on holiday something is very different. It was the same when
I was in Turkey earlier in the year. Why is it that I can drink to my heart’s
content when on holiday?
As everyone else was still snoring this morning I
emptied the dishwasher, made a cuppa and had a little look at the Internet. I
had loads of “likes” and comments about the photos I’ve shared on Facebook over the last
couple of days; I did chuckle when I realised that the facial recognition
software had tried its best but got the wrong family member.
I then found myself faced with a moral dilemma (albeit an incredibly trivial one). Someone who was new to the art of rummaging in the undergrowth for
broken film pots had asked a question on a geocaching forum. Some people had
offered sage advice. You might think that would have been a kind thing to have
done, but several of those offering the advice haven’t rummaged in the
undergrowth for over a year. I considered offering a warning to the newbies
about being careful about who you listen to… but decided that was an argument I
couldn’t be bothered to have. The same happens on websites about fishing. The
most vociferous people on those forums haven’t been near a lake in years. I
used to find the same when I was in the astronomy club, and when I kept snakes.
I’m sure it is also true of baking, stamp collecting and pro-celebrity
arm-wrestling. These days hobbies are dual-purpose things. You can enjoy them
by either doing them or by talking about them.
The dogs woke; I took them out for their morning
tiddles. As I pootled round the garden I saw what Fudge had sicked up
yesterday. You’ve never seen quite so much dog-honk. It wasn’t the heat, or the
excitement that had made him ill yesterday; he had just eaten *far* too much.
I programmed “Hannah” for the day, and we set about brekkie. Brekkie was rather good.
We then drove out to East Tytherley. As we drove
the nice lady on the radio was talking about what you might do with left over
Christmas cake. Left over Christmas cake? At August bank holiday? Apparently
the stuff fries well? Fried Christmas cake? – one lives and learns.
We got to the church at East Tytherley and solved a
little puzzle based on a war grave before setting off on a little stroll.
Although it was a hot day, much of the walk was in the shade of trees, and
unlike the walk of a couple of days ago we found ourselves following clearly
marked paths from one point to the next. And we even found a couple of ammo
cans as well. Ammo cans are good things to find when rummaging in the
undergrowth.
Mind you one of the geocaches we found was disgusting.
Some idiot had put a fruit salad sweeting in the container (which is against the rules) and it had melted and sticky slime had gone everywhere. Yuk!
With walk walked we got back to the cars and had a little
picnic. We had found a rather nice spot in front of the church by a giant
redwood. It was rather beautiful. Within a few minutes someone drove up, made
great show of checking the oil in a container outside the church, and then came
over and chatted. It was rather obvious that he was the church warden and he
was investigating claims that the lower orders were setting up camp on the
church green.
Five minutes after he went another car drove up to
us, circled round (whilst the driver
watched us like a hawk) and then went away again.
Having picnicked at the church we had definitely worried the locals.
The plan had us then visiting a local pub that had
been recommended to us, but there wasn’t much parking there. In fact there was
only parking for one car, so we found the geocache that had been put out as an
advert for the place, and came back to base where we sat in the garden and
drank beer and Pimms and played Jenga.
Dinner was particularly good, and with it scoffed
Karl popped over the road to the pub to book a table for tomorrow. I went along
in case he got lost or needed backup. Once there we had a pint and a port, and
came back to find Blokus was in full swing.
Not a bad way to spend the bank holiday. As
always there were photos.
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